Worse Than The Bark
Worse Than The Bark
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Title:
Pairing(s):
Dorochet/Jean
Havoc.
Beta:
own.
Rating:
Genre:
Warnings:
consistency with canon whatsoever.
Feedback:
Word
Count:
499.
Summary:
for this. Yes, die a slow painful death. Or maybe he’ll just set Dorochet on
him. …Bastard.
Author's
Notes: Done
for my drabble requests for Christmas, for raindrop150, who requested this
peculiar pairing (I had never seen it before), as well as crack/smut with
leash/collar. Why can’t I write a serious yaoi Havoc fic? **shifty eyes at
Scar/Havoc**
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Worse Than
The Bark.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>He’s going to kill Mustang, there’s
no other way about it. He’s going to wrap his hands around the smug bastard and
just squeeze until his bloody eyes
pop up, irascible-protective Hawkeye be damned.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>Behind him, the damned chimera
whimpers and twists his – its, whatever
– hips just so, it makes him arch up
slightly.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>Oh, how he hates Mustang. Let’s give the
poor chimera somewhere to stay, he’d said, it’d be cruel to send him back into captivity again, he’d said,
said, plus you’ve always wanted a dog,
haven’t you? And this one is tame as ever!
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>Tame as hell, Havoc wants to
protest, groaning as his arms give in and he sinks his face against his pillow.
Any moment now, he will regain his senses and kill the damn beast. A little
comfort my arse, the blonde
thinks resentfully, remembering how the evening had degenerated from awkward
pats of comfort to wild sex. And it is
wild sex, Havoc will consider himself lucky if he can walk next morning.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>Dorochet continues to move, whimper
and chew the skin of his neck viciously, making sounds that were nowhere near
human and that shouldn’t be so damn erotic.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>Mustang is going to die for this.
Yes, die a slow painful death. Or maybe he’ll just set Dorochet on him.
…Bastard.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>And then he’s coming, not even sure
how, but it’s splattering all over the
bedspread and he knows, distantly, that he’s going to regret the sticky mess in
a few hours and hot damn, it feels
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>The chimera keeps moving, pushing
and pulling and pressing until Havoc’s lying listlessly on the bed, too
drained, too tired and to sated to protest the rough handling of his body or
the million and one welts in his skin, from claws, teeth and that stupid leash
that had started it all. He’s never bringing the subject up again, ever.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>There’s a fanged mouth clamping down
his shoulder and the chimera is coming and Havoc whimpers because it’s all too hard, too rough, too good to be true.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>He’s going to put that leash on the
bedpost and not moving it away as long as he lives.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>“No leash,” Dorochet growls next to
his ear, nuzzling his neck and making a content growling that rivals purring.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>He’s crushing him, and he’s still
inside him, but for some reason – he must be going insane – Havoc doesn’t mind. He doesn’t care. Mustang and the
Elrics could storm into the room right now, and he won’t move from where he’s
slowly falling asleep. He smiles against pillow, feeling achy all over and
wondering if he can call in sick next morning, to use the time to
little chaotic life.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>“No leash,” The chimera repeats,
louder and more threatening this time, and Havoc blobs his head tiredly.
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>“Okay.”
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style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Tahoma'>He won’t set Dorochet on Mustang.
The bastard doesn’t deserve it.